MR. PUNCH'S HANDY-BOOK OF THE STAGE.

CHAP. VII.-THE LOW COMEDIAN.

IR,-Yours is indeed an enviable function in the theatre. You are the personification of mirth, the incarnation of laughtera broad-grin in flesh and blood. There is nothing JOHN BULL-who still, as in the days of FROISSART, s'amuse tristement while he is left s'amuser-loves so much as having laughs pumped out of him; and the more irresistible the pressure applied for the purpose, the better he loves the process, and the forcepump-that is, the low comedian.

Remember, therefore, that it is, first and foremost, your business to get laughs; and get them.

Do not listen to those who tell you that it is your part to represent the humorous side of character, with all its effects of light and shade. That may be the business of the Actor who plays character-parts. You are a low comedian. Always be funny. No

matter what the situation, emotion, or action, it is the Author's business to find you in laughs; and if he fails, you must make them.

You need not be too particular about your means. JOHN BULL, if he is kept laughing, is not disposed to ask questions as to the taste, propriety, sense, or meaning of what tickles him. Let the circus-clown be a lesson to you in this respect. See how safe he makes his laughs; and yet how simple and naïve the means he uses!

Cultivate a manner of your own-the more unlike real life the better. A peculiar voice, gait, grin, or chuckle, will make you known the moment you appear, and often secure you a round of laughter before you open your mouth. Such a jocose mannerism, marking, as it does, your friendly and familiar relations with the public, may be compared to the Clown's "Here we are!" in the Pantomime, which never misses fire. Besides, as you will always play parts, meant, at least, to be funny, the audience will in time come to associate your mannerism with fun, and to laugh at it as if it really were fun. In the absence of real humour or comicality in or on your part, this is a great advantage. If you cannot invent

BELATED JURYMEN.

(To the RIGHT HON. LORD WESTBURY.)

MAY it please your Lordship. Gentlemen of the Jury are persons on whose behalf I beg to claim your Lordship's attention. I wish to direct it, my Lord, to the following passage from the report of the late murder trial at the Old Bailey :

"This closed the case for the Prosecution, and MR. BEST, the Prisoner's Counsel, having applied to postpone his defence until this (Thursday) morning, the Court adjourned, and the jury, according to custom in such cases, were taken to the London Coffee House to stay overnight."

Now, my Lord, as a man, does not your Lordship feel that this practice of locking up gentlemen of the jury all night together is brutal and disgusting, as a law-reformer do you not think it ought to be abolished, and as LORD CHANCELLOR, could you not get the Legislature to abolish it? Is there the shadow of a reason for persisting in it, except the apprehension that jurymen, if they were allowed to go home, would be liable to be intimidated, and to have their minds influenced by their wives and other persons?

My Lord, are British jurymen, of all people in the world, particularly susceptible of intimidation or undue influence? I believe the French are not such brutes and fools as to lock up jurymen as ours are locked up in England. Yet surely the decisions of French juries are not in general more contrary to law and evidence than those of our own.

Suppose LORD SHAFTESBURY were to fight a duel and have the misfortune to shoot somebody, he would, of course, be tried by his peers. He would be put on his trial before your Lordships. Then, if the noble Earl's case should happen to last over a day, would your Lordships, would the whole house of Lords, Bishops and all, have to be taken off and shut up in a neighbouring public-house-say the Westminster Palace Hotel? Well then!

a funny mannerism of your own, borrow that of the low comedian in vogue. In time people may come to think you as funny as he is.

The same exclusive eye to comicality which should govern your manner in all your parts, should preside over your dress and make-up. Let both be such as to provoke the involuntary exclamation, "What a Guy!" the moment you appear.

I need hardly say that probability, or the usages of real life should not be considered for a moment in such matters as dress, manners, or make-up. Do not countenance the profoundly mistaken notion, that the fun may be in the part and not the Actor, and that all you have to do is to develop the Author's conception.

This would go far to render useless all your cherished mannerisms, tricks of make-up and dress, gags, and indeed the whole of your readymade arsenal of fun; and throw you, instead, on the dull resources of first finding out, and then embodying, the humour of another man.

or

Always insist on plenty of "funny things" "jokes" in your part. Do not be put off-as I have often seen Authors attempt to fob off low comedians-by the assurance that the part is humorous in itself, and does not require "jokes" to make it so. You have a right to see your "laughs" clear before you risk your reputation.

If the Author persist in refusing you straw to make your bricks with, in the shape of palpable "laughs," let his part play itself, and let him see what comes of his humorous conception." The chances are he will never again attempt thus to impose on your good-nature.

The low comedian, like every other conscientious artist following a line of business, will have to resist the plausible reasoning of those who hold up life as the mirror in which he is constantly to look, to find the true features of his Art. He will be told that as tears and smiles lie close together, and often on the same faces in life, so they should on the stage. Let him turn a deaf ear to such sophisms, and cultivate the more profitable art of forcing broad-grins and guffaws. His study must not be life, but laughter; his object not to depict character from the ludicrous side, but to make the public laugh. If he follow any other guiding principle, he will be led away into that fatal confusion of low comedy with character-part, against which we have already warned the light comedian.

My Lord, ever your Lordship's,

PANCY.

A FATHER'S APPEAL.

MY DEAR PUNCH, IN an excellent article on the Brompton case, our friend and fellow Tory, the Standard, says :

It is, in fact, a vulgar error to suppose that a parent's authority over a female child ceases at the age of sixteen. That is an utter delusion."

Yes. But I should like to know when it begins. Having seven daughters, varying in age from two to twenty, I have some little interest in the question. My own contribution to its solution is my statement that-beginning with the youngest-my first regularly wakes me at six with screeching; my second paints all my photographs in her earliest manner; my third utterly declines to learn the multiplication table; my fourth refuses to dine in the nursery, and howls on the stairs until called down to the parlour; my fifth objects to go to church because the preacher is so ugly; my sixth made me stay for her at a dance till three this morning; and my seventh has announced that I may tyrannise over her young affections for another long and cruel year, but that on the day she is twenty-one she allies herself in marriage with her cousin PETER, whom I hate for his own sake and his family's. If, therefore, you or the Standard can give me any lights which will give me any authority over one or all of these young ladies, I shall remain, Yours uncommonly obliged,

INFALLIBLE.

HOMEOPATHY IN THE WORKHOUSE.

THE proverb says that Union is strength, but the Poor Law Union is synonymous with weakness. Weak broth, and weak tea, and weak stimulants of all sorts are given in the workhouse, and the paupers who reside there are generally weak people. There are weak minds too among them, and among those who have the charge of them, who in very many instances are weak enough to fancy that they can get work done without giving proper pay for it. For example, at the Holborn Union the medical man is paid a hundred pounds a-year for attending on an average one hundred and twenty patients, forty of whom he is required to visit every day; while the medicine he dispenses costs him twenty pounds a year, or a halfpenny per diem for each one of his patients. With such homœopathic pay for it, one wonders that the treatment is not also homœopathic: for globules are of course far cheaper than black doses, and if through want of proper physic a patient happens to die, there will be one the less to visit, and so the less work for the Doctor.

As a rule, our workhouse Surgeons are shamefully ill-paid, and when a death occurs through insufficient-that is, homeopathic-treatment, one can hardly be surprised at it. The charge of manslaughter in such case should be brought against the Guardians rather than the Doctor, for they stint him in the salary out of which he buys his drugs, and they stint him in the diet he prescribes for his poor patients. But the workhouse, it is said, must perforce be made repulsive, and even in the sick room its inmates must be roughly treated. Paupers, we are told, soon learn the trick of shamming ill, that they may escape work and get a little extra diet. Yet Doctors usually are sharp enough to see through such imposture, and, for the sake of their own interests, they allow none on the sick list but those who are really ailing. For these humanity demands that good treatment be procured, and good treatment can hardly be obtained without good pay for it. At present

A GOOD THING FROM THE NEW WORLD.

WHEN from Darien to Terra del Fuego
Spain's colonies rose for their freedom,
Bade the Dons, their oppressors, away go,
(And borrowed our money to bleed 'em,)
CANNING cried, while applauding the strife,
('Twas before English lenders were sold)
That the New World had wakened to life,
To redress the warped scales of the Old.
Since then we've seen tricks so fantastic

By these States played in Liberty's name,
That we sigh for some curb, though 'twere Aztec,
These random Republics to tame.

But in spite of perpetual commotion,

CANNING's phrase, at last, meaning has found,
In this New South American notion

Of good beef at threepence a pound!

Their republican riots we've laughed at,
Cursed their rogues and their repudiation:
Their heroics and bluster we've scoffed at,
As below even Yankee sensation.
Their silver we 've taken, and gladly

Would see our lost gold there refound,
But they send what we want just as badly,
When they send beef at threepence a pound!

Beef is beef, though 'tis fed at the seat
Of King Mob's topsy-turviest State,

And there's something appropriate in meat
That comes to our shores from the Plate.
Though JOHN BULL rules the roast of the nation,
His good knights, Sir Loin and Sir Round,
Will welcome their New World relation,
SENOR CHARQUE* at threepence a pound!

*Charque-Spanish for jerked beef.

Shakspeare by a Cynic.

THE following benediction was pronounced by a wretch at a public dinner:May indigestion wait on appetite, And gout on both!

LEGAL INTELLIGENCE.-There is a rumour that the Chief Justice of the Common Pleas is to have a Peerage-an Earl-dom, of course.

workhouse Surgeons are grossly underpaid; and, as "who drives fat oxen should himself be fat," one would think it is deemed needful that who Doctors the sick poor should be sickened of the office, and be paid the poorest pittance for it.

INFALLIBILITY AND LEGITIMACY.

THE BISHOP OF BEAUVAIS has addressed to the clergy of his diocese He expresses the hope that, with time and patience, the present clamour a circular on the POPE'S Encyclical; which seems like buttering bacon. against the Papal edict will cease, and that the people will end by understanding that "the Holy Church, the great civiliser of the world, has never been, and can never be, the enemy of true civilisation and of legitimate progress."

If the people end as Popery would have them end, they will no doubt end in understanding very clearly that the Church meant by the BISHOP OF BEAUVAIS is by no means the enemy, but the very intimate friend, of legitimate progress. They will end in being a people no longer free to choose their own rulers, which legitimate progress will render them once more unable to do. According to the principles just propounded by the Sovereign Pontiff, legitimate progress is the progress of legitimate monarchy, and means, in France, political retrogression, and the restoration of the Bourbons. But, alas for Infallibility and PIUS THE NINTH! how came PIUS THE SEVENTH to crown the FIRST NAPOLEON? Before launching his Encyclical to smash VICTOR-EMMANUEL, the NINTH PIUS might, however, have taken the precaution to crown NAPOLEON THE THIRD.

NEW BOOK (Dedicated to the Author of the "Apologia").-History of My Convictions. By an "on-the-lay" Member of the Swell Mob.

Ir is no uncommon thing for free, ardent spirits, in the hey-day of sprightly youth and soul-inspiring health, to complain bitterly of the restraints imposed upon their honest, impulsive natures, by the cold formalities and insipid conventionalities of an artificial state of Society. For instance, how much amusement is lost, how much joyousness expelled-nay, utterly quashed-by the existing method adopted by every respectable visitor on entering or quitting an apartment!

The servant, to whom we confidentially impart our name at the foot of the stairs, and who, having so many other more important matters wherewith to employ his memory, forgets it before he reaches the landing, and requires further information upon the subject before committing himself to any irrevocable statement, prepares by his announcement the lady or gentleman of the house for our entrance, which following straight upon the commonplace heralding, and, as it were, under the patronage of the man in plush, is about as flat and stale a performance as it is possible to conceive.

If it is true that the essence of wit is surprise, then, most certainly, coming into a drawing-room in the manner above-mentioned, is witless, hopelessly witless-witless to the last degree.

Not one whit, or wit, less does the above apply to going out of a room; or, for the matter of that, to our present forms of salutation, valediction, and the like. "Yes," say you, whoever you are, "that's true: but where's your remedy?"

Where, Sir? Why, in the habits, manners, and customs observed in the sparkling burlesques and extravaganzas of our modern Stage. You think that descriptive music enables you to form some judgment of the character about to appear: your mind is made up on the subject, and straightway enters somebody else quite different altogether from what you had been led to imagine from the notes. There's surprise-there, consequently, is wit for you. Again, do they come to a difficulty in the Burlesque Drama, or a standstill in the dialogue, they are out of it by "jumping Jim Crow," and getting anyhow into a chirruping, goahead popular song with a dance to finish, before you can say Jack Robinson!"-always supposing the exclamation of that Christian and surname to be a fair measure of rapidity. Is there any doubt whatever as to how your characters shall be "got off," so as to make room for others? None at all. What might puzzle the most brilliant conversationalist in Society, is the easiest thing to your Burlesque Actor"Exit, dancing off."

If, by reason of any physical infirmity, or on account of his inferior position in the theatre, he is not allowed to dance or sing, then, at all events, he has a pointed couplet to "carry him off," so as to make the audience regret the absence of one who had given such promise for the future.

Why not adopt these methods in Society?

Let us suppose a few cases. To begin with, we must imagine our characters possessed of a certain amount of musical power. It is also desirable that the correct ear should regulate the movements of the light fantastic toe. Now, let us put our principles into practice. Suppose, for instance, that MR. JONES calls upon the SMYTHES:

Servant (opening drawing-room door, and announcing) MR. JONES. MR. SMYTHE rises from his seat, and MRS. SMYTHE languidly reposes in her chair.

You (supposing that you are JONES) wait for a minute or so on the landing.

Yourself (outside, humming preparatory music-"See the conquering hero comes;" then "speaking without," as if addressing unseen attendants). Tell my umbrella [or walking-stick] to await my return in the vestibule. (Hums.) Tiddle liddle liddle liddle lum. Crash!

Enter drawing-room suddenly, and at the word "crash" strike an attitude.

After this, the conversation can flow pleasantly and freely; for after such an entrance there can be no doubt about your being able to make yourself perfectly at home, and it offers in itself a subject for discussion.

, Having exhausted the themes of health, weather, parties, interesting family statistics, and the seasonable amusements, you will all come to an awkward standstill, and the visitor will say-giving a hasty glance at his watch, without arriving at the slightest notion of the time-that he "thinks he must be going," or he "really must be going now;" and then follows the humming and ha'ing of leave-taking, and the almost insuperable difficulty of making anything like an effective exit, especially if there be some little distance between your chair and the door.

Yourself (rising from chair).

"Well, MISSIS SMYTHE, I think that I must go."

Mr. or Mrs. Smythe (if they are equal to the occasion). "It grieves us much to hear you saying so." Emphasis on "so." If neither the lady nor the gentleman can manage this, adapt the line for yourself, thus, Continue

"It grieves me that I should be saying so."

And so good-bye. Permit me just to say,
I leave you 'cos I go "out ob de way."

These words are suggestive of the melody known as "Dan Tucker;" therefore immediately strike up

Yourself (singing). Out ob de way, ole DAN TUCKER,
(Dance towards the door)
Out ob de way, ole DAN TUCKER,
Out ob de way, ole DAN TUCKER,

(Open the drawing room door, so as it may be ready for you),

You didn't ask me to stay to supper" (or "luncheon," or "dinner," as the case may be).

(Pretend to play the tambourine on your hat, whistle or hum the symphony, and exit, dancing.)

And what will the SMYTHES say, after you've gone? Why, "A lively fellow that!" to be sure.

The man-servant might be instructed to receive a visitor at the door with "Hallo! I'm a-looking at you!" Whereupon, visitor and servant should execute rapid pantomime music, "Rum tum tum tum tiddley iddley iddley," &c., on imaginary violins. Then the domestic might (being also thereto instructed) run up-stairs, open the drawing-room door, put his head in, say "Somebody's coming!" and immediately disappear. The Master and Mistress of the House would then take up the "Rum tum tum tiddley iddley" music as aforesaid, until the entrance of the expected visitor.

How a playful entrance, such as we have already described, would delight a drawing-room filled with your host's friends, of whom the majority, we will suppose, are personally unknown to you! Why, in one second you'd be on familiar terms with every one of them! Take the coldest present: could he withstand your joyous bounding into the room, your attitude, your waggling of your head, your "Here we are again! How was you to-morrow?" and so forth. Of course not. Away, Formality; away, Conventionality! and let us welcome a new era of freedom and unrestrained pleasantry.

Enough for the present. By the time the amiable reader shall have mastered the above method, we shall be ready for him with something fresh on the same subject. Until then, fare thee well!

Executors' Announcement.

THE Liverpool Financial Reformers (who propose to abolish Excise and Customs, and thereby to throw all taxes on property) beg respectfully to announce, that they are appointed sole executors to the late M. PROUDHON, and assignees of his celebrated dogma La Propriété c'est un Vol.

A COCKNEY'S EPITAPH.

THINK! "From the cradle to the grave!" my brother,

A nurse takes you from one, an 'earse to t'other.

THE BEST PLACE FOR MR. BABBAGE.-Stillorgan.